


The Visit

by L3t_U5_D0_That_Aga1n



Series: Marvel Hero Academia [10]
Category: Captain Britain and MI: 13, Spider-Man - All Media Types, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Bigotry & Prejudice, Bittersweet, Don’t copy to another site, Gran being a grump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:49:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24679543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/L3t_U5_D0_That_Aga1n/pseuds/L3t_U5_D0_That_Aga1n
Summary: In which Sorahiko 'Gran' Torino pays his favorite (and only, at this point in time) student a visit.
Relationships: Gran Torino & Shimura Nana, Gran Torino & Yagi Toshinori | All Might, Shimura Nana & Yagi Toshinori | All Might
Series: Marvel Hero Academia [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1686835
Comments: 14
Kudos: 25





	The Visit

The Visit

**Spider-Man, Captain Britain, and all associated characters, are property of Marvel. My Hero Academia and all related characters are property of Kohei Horikoshi**

/+/+/+/+/

If there was one thing about the sudden surge of powered people that Sorahiko Torino despised, it was the increased hell that became airports. Especially American airports—which was par for the course, really. Even before Thor touched down in the United States, place was insane. At least he had the sense to not pack more than a carry-on. And his Quirk wasn’t a visible mutation. Mutant-type he may have been, the only difference between him and a non-powered individual were the holes in the soles of his feet.

He winced as he recalled the indignant look on this one poor sap’s face—which was less a face and more an amalgam of Lego blocks—as customs officers pulled him aside.

“Gran!” The Japanese Hero blinked, pulling away from his thought and following the voice, “Over here!”

Sorahiko allowed himself a brief smile as Toshinori—towering above the crowd as usual—shouted and waved exuberantly. The crowd easily parted as he marched forward a…a wide, genuine smile on his face.

“ _Well_ ,” Sorahiko thought warmly, “ _at least_ one _thing about this little…retreat is going right_.” He composed himself, meeting the overgrown brat halfway. “Least you’ve finally learned how to be on time,” he groused.

Toshinori chuckled bashfully, “I’m not _that_ bad.”

Sorahiko huffed, “I seem to recall having to personally drag you out of bed more often than not.”

Toshinori gulped, eyes downcast, and Sorahiko cursed himself for his blunder. “W-Well,” the boy stammered, “you and…and Nana weren’t exactly _gentle_ taskmasters.” He sighed deeply, saying nothing else.

Sorahiko hummed, reaching over and gently patting his student's arm. “It still hurts, I know” he commiserated.

“Sometimes I don’t know if it’ll ever stop,” Toshinori whispered. Sorahiko nodded sadly—some days, the realization that Nana was really gone weighed on his chest so heavily he could hardly breath. “But,” Sorahiko returned his attention to Toshinori, who was smilingly softly, weakly, “she wouldn’t want us to keep moping after all this time, right?”

Sorahiko managed a grin of his own, “Knowing her…she’d probably pull on our ears and yell at us for being fools.”

Toshinori’s smile grew a touch wider, “Yeah…” He lifted his head up, staring warmly at Sorahiko, “It’s good to see you, Gran.”

“You too,” Sorahiko replied. He then coughed into his hand, brushing past his student. “Alright, that’s enough of that!” He scowled, “Let’s hurry and get out of here. I’ve heard America’s train system is abysmal, but that’s got to be infinitely better than buying a taxi. Especially in this weather,” he shuddered; if Toshinori were _anyone_ else, he wouldn’t have bothered leaving Japan in the beginning of December for an equally cold location…He should have pushed harder for the brat to move to California.

“Actually,” Toshinori caught up quickly, “I’ve got a ride.” Sorahiko looked over at him with a cocked brow, “My friend, David.”

At once, Sorahiko’s mood soured. Not because he disliked this David kid—he’d never met him, to say nothing of the fact that Toshinori had done nothing but sung the American’s praises No, what annoyed him—even after all this time—was the circumstances in which David found out Toshinori was a Hero. An accident while _unpacking_ , of all things.

Now, such a thing wouldn’t be nearly so bad in Japan. Though Heroes preferring to keep their civilian identities wholly secret were uncommon, they did exist. And any civilian that found out those secret identities was…persuaded by the government to keep quiet about it.

America had no such safeguard. Granted, from what Toshinori said, David seemed like a good kid (if a bit obsessed with Vigilantes). And, in all honesty, at least one person was going to find out, but still, it could have waited more than a _single day_.

He let Toshinori lead the way to the parking structure, where a young American waved at them besides a…Gran Torino.

Sorahiko glared at Toshinori who was pointedly looking away, shoulders shaking with mirth. “Cute,” Sorahiko huffed.

The brat snorted, “For the record, he had the car _before_ we met.”

“And the fact that you’ve never mentioned this before?”

“…Thought it’d be funny,” the oaf admitted cheekily.

Soarhiko’s eye twitched (because dammit, it _was_ funny) before he smirked, saying, “You know, it’s been awhile since we’ve had a sparring session.” Toshinori quickly paled, prompting a loud laugh from the older Hero.

They finally reached David, who bowed lightly at Sorahiko, “Hello, Sir,” the American said, “it’s an honor to meet you.”

“I’m sure,” Sorahiko grunted in reply. He bristled as a cool breeze swept across the parking lot. “Well,” he cocked a brow, “are we just going to stand around gawking at each other?”

David blushed, clearing his throat, “Right,” he stepped aside, gesturing to the car, “let’s get going!”

Sorahiko took the backseat for himself, silently glad that Toshinori sat in the front passenger side. David drove them out quickly enough, and Sorahiko experienced the joys of America’s traffic system.

He was content to keep silent for the duration of the ride, but Toshinori _and_ David kept sneaking him glances through the rearview mirror. Thus, with a disgruntled sigh, he barked, “What?”

David—the one currently looking through the mirror—jolted lightly. “Er, nothing. Just, uh…” he trailed off for a couple seconds, “you’re as intense as Toshi said you would be.”

“‘ _Toshi_ ’?” Gran mentally repeated, “ _Awfully informal_.” Course, to be fair, David was privy to Toshinori’s Heroic (if Vigilante, Sorahiko thought with a small scowl) endeavors. Plus, this _was_ America.

“What else am I supposed to be?” he asked gruffly.

“Nothing, nothing,” David quickly replied, falling back into silence. Sorahiko clicked his tongue, deciding to be the adult and maintain a decent conversation.

“So,” he stared at Toshinori through the rear-view mirror, chuckling cruelly, “get any closer with the Avengers?”

He expected the brat to splutter, blush indignantly and make up another excuse. Instead, he grinned, nodding vigorously, “Actually I have! Well, just Captain America,” he admitted, though his smile didn’t lessen. “I’ve seen the others here and there, but they’ve never stuck around to chat. But still, Captain America!” he gushed.

Sorahiko hummed idly. Toshinori had always been _obsessed_ with the old American soldier. It hadn’t really earned him many friends back home—whether it was because Steven Rogers was really just a drugged-up prop (and thus not a true Hero) or lingering grudges from World War II (even if the man never fought on the Pacific Front). Still, the man was heavily tied to the United States government—official backing from him would go a long way in making sure his return to Japan was as smooth as possible.

Of course, that return was looking to be a long, long time coming.

“Ha!” Sorahiko was shaken from his dark musing by David’s laughter. “I wouldn’t call barely squeaking out three sentences ‘meeting’ Captain America.”

Sorahiko snorted, prompting a heavy blush from Toshinori. “It was _four_ sentences,” the brat mulishly replied.

“Puh- _lease_ ,” David teased. “You probably would have stayed frozen in place if Captain Britain and Spider-Man hadn’t literally dragged you away.”

And once again, Sorahiko’s good mood died. The minute Toshinori expressed a desire to travel to New York, Sorahiko did his research. There were the X-Men, but for all that New York was their home base, the majority of their heroic endeavors were performed outside of the state. There were the Avengers, and the Fantastic Four but, again, they performed mostly outside of New York (very far outside, in the latter’s case). And of them all, only the Avengers were officially supported by the United States government. After which left…Vigilantes. Far too many Vigilantes—seriously, any more than three constituted an epidemic.

But the worst among them had to be Spider-Man. He didn’t necessarily believe all the rumors that the man was secretly a criminal mastermind playing a very long con on New York’s citizens in an attempt to take control of the city in the future. But…if the man were wholly good, such rumors would never arise in the first place.

And Toshinori decided to stick to the bug like glue. (He was also worried about Captain Britain; there was less information about him compared to Spider-Man, but everything pointed to the British Vigilante being involved in magic which was…never good).

Forget the fact that the Avengers never stuck around their home base long enough for him to make meaningful connections; continued association with Spider-Man and Captain Britain would screw Toshinori more than anything else.

Now if only he could make him see that…

/+/+/+/+/

“Are you sure you don’t want to room with me and David for the next few days?” Toshinori asked, eyeing the motel room with poorly hidden disdain, “We’ve got room.”

Sorahiko scoffed, “And live with a couple of sloppy college students on their couch?”

“…I’d give you my bed.”

“We’d still have to live together.” Toshinori opened his mouth, only to quickly snap it shut, nodding lightly. “Regardless,” he sat down on a (surprisingly comfy) chair in the corner of the room, “we need to talk about your future.”

Toshinori sighed, sitting on the bed, “I’m not leaving New York, Gran.”

“Still got six months,” Sorahiko grumbled. He cleared his throat, “but there’s something more important than that right now.” At Toshinori’s quizzical stare, he elaborated, “It has to do with the fact that you haven’t been offered a membership by the Avengers yet.”

His student blushed, “I’ve met—”

“I don’t care that you met a living fossil,” Sorahiko cut him off gruffly, ignoring the boy’s cross expression. “That’s only one man. And while his approval would go a long you need _more_. You need…” he trailed off, thinking on those currently in the Avengers. “Not Ant-Man or Iron Man or Black Widow or Wasp or Hawkeye.”

“What’s wrong with them?”

Sorahiko ignored the stupid question, looking down and tapping his chin, “Those twins would be a good choice, if only their father wasn’t an international terrorist.”

“The Maximoff twins?”

“Definitely not the Hulk.”

“Gran, hold on—”

“Vision _might_ work—he’s in the same sort of gray area as Nezu.”

“Nezu? The mouse? What—”

“There’s a couple of bona fide gods on the team, right? Thor and some Greek deity? Those two could work.”

“GRAN!” Sorahiko blinked at the outburst, looking up, surprised to see the flummoxed expression on Toshinori’s face. “ _What_ are you talking about?”

Sorahiko scoffed, “You got cotton in your ears? I’m talking about your _future_!” he hissed, standing up. “You can’t honestly tell me that you think you’ll be able to go back home—to live up to Nana’s _legacy!_ —with a just few years of illegal Vigilantism under your belt!”

“I know that!” Toshinori shouted in reply. “You think I’m not frustrated by my own failings as well?”

“And another thing,” Sorahiko glared, “you’re going to need to cut ties with Spider-Man and Captain Britain.”

“…What?” Toshinori ground out, predictably angry.

Sorahiko sighed, sinking back down into his seat. “For the love of god, boy, _think!_ You wonder why the Avengers don’t stick around—it’s cause of people like them.”

“How _DARE_ you!” Sorahiko flinched at the harsh bellow. “Br—Captain Britain and Spider-Man are some of the greatest _Heroes_ I’ve _ever_ seen, much less worked with!” His glare deepened, “And you _know_ how exclusive that list is.”

Sorahiko sneered; as if Nana would appreciate being held to the same level of esteem as a couple of _Vigilantes_. The fact that Toshinori somehow thought this was okay…He needed to fix this. Rip the bandage off, no matter how much it might hurt. But how?

Then, an idea. Toshinori thought a couple of Vigilantes were good Heroes? Perhaps he needed a reminder of what an _actual_ Hero was capable of—or rather, the depths which Vigilantes could sink to.

“You know what?” he said aloud, “Fine.” At the brat’s blink, he added, “If these two Vigilantes are so _great_ , then let’s meet.”

Toshinori blinked, rage washing away and replaced with confusion. “You…want to meet them?” The brat was apprehensive—good, at least he still had _something_ resembling a head on his shoulders—but still replied, “Uh…sure.” He pulled out his phone, walking to the other side of the room, “let me…call them.”

Sorahiko nodded, getting up rolling his shoulders. Time to get Toshinori’s priorities in order.

/+/+/+/+/

Sorahiko shivered, rubbing his shoulders and wrapping his scarf tighter around his neck as they waited inside some warehouse on the docks. “Couldn’t wait somewhere with heating?”

Toshinori—dressed as All Might and making full-use of One for All’s enhanced metabolism to keep warm, lucky brat—shrugged, “Not like we can just hang out in a café.”

“Yet another thing wrong with this country,” Sorahiko grumbled.

“What?”

“I said the least your ‘friends’ could do is meet us on time.”

“That’s not what I heard.” Sorahiko flinched, whirling around, fists raised and taking a deep breath. He followed the voice, eyes trailing upward, ultimately frowning at the sight of the Vigilante Spider-Man, hanging upside down from the ceiling, white lenses practically glowing in the shadows. Sorahiko lowered his fists as the Vigilante slinked down the wall. “But,” the American said, “I’ll let your little comment slide because, honestly, I’ve heard Japanese cafés are awesome.”

Sorahiko’s mind froze—how’d he know they were Japanese?—before recalling that Toshinori had said he’d confided in the Vigilante that he was originally from Japan. An all-around stupid move, but Toshinori had repeatedly proven to be blind when it came to America.

Sorahiko grunted, “Where’s the other one?” At that moment, the door to the warehouse creaked open, revealing Captain Britain.

Spider-Man scoffed, jumping off the wall and landing beside Toshinori. “Why’d you use the door? You can fly.”

“I like using doors,” Captain Britain coolly replied.

“But you can _fly_ ,” Spider-Man stressed.

“And I like to feel normal sometimes.”

Toshinori chuckled, “I’m pretty sure ‘normal’ hasn’t been option for people like us since we decided to play dress-up and punch other people that like to play dress-up.” That got all three of them laughing.

Sorahiko scowled; he’d underestimated how much Toshinori liked these blowhards. He’d be hurt, after this…but he’d be damned if he let the last piece of Nana he had left (aside from the woman’s son, who he hadn’t seen since she sent him away to a foster family and made Sorahiko promise to never seek him out. A promise he’d reluctantly kept, even after all these years) be led astray.

“So,” Sorahiko said, catching the trio’s attention, “you two are the bigshot American Vigilantes All Might’s been hanging around?”

“Not American,” Captain Britain quickly replied.

“And I don’t know if I’d call myself ‘a’ bigshot,” Spider-Man said. He preened, “ _The_ bigshot would be more accurate.” That statement earned more laughs from the children, and a dark scowl from Sorahiko.

He quickly plastered a smile on his face, “Well, how about we have some fun, while I’m here?” The Vigilantes tilted their heads quizzically, while Toshinori paled. “New York’s a dangerous city, right?”

“Only on days that end in ‘Y’,” Spider-Man replied.

“Well, how about a little game? We all go out and see who can stop the most crimes?” It was a fairly common practice among the Vigilantes back in Japan—an attempt to gain the fame that official, government sanctioned Heroes claimed. A disgusting act, but one that would reveal their true natures.

“Wow,” Captain Britain chuckled, prompting a grim grin from Sorahiko, “that sounds…like a terrible idea,” the British Vigilante said evenly.

Sorahiko blinked.

“Yeah,” Spider-Man crossed his arms, “I know Japan’s turned being a decent person into a popularity contest, but the rest of the world isn’t insane.” Sorahiko leaned back, stunned at the blunt statement (even more so when Toshinori said nothing in Japan’s defense). The Vigilante tilted his head, turning to Toshinori, “Your original mentor must’ve had a few screws loose, if she was willing to hang out with this nutso.”

Sorahiko’s blood boiled—forget the insult to himself, this loudmouthed, Vigilante _punk_ was mocking Nana? He clenched his fists, taking in a deep breath and rising a few centimeters off the ground. Spider-Man tensed, turning his wide-lensed mask towards Sorahiko and rolling his shoulders (Toshinori and the Captain Britain were oblivious to the exchange, so Sorahiko had to reluctantly grant that the American was at least able to read a room).

But nothing came of their meagre preparations. Indeed, the tension in the room died quickly when Toshinori chuckled, saying, “Trust me, she was crazy for a lot more reasons than an odd friendship.” He smiled fondly, staring up at the ceiling, “Like her choice in smoothies,” he shivered, “Terrible, just terrible!”

Sorahiko’s jaw dropped. Did...Did Toshinori just make a joke? About Nana?

Spider-Man grunted quizzically, though Captain Britain guffawed loudly. “Oh yeah, you told me about that! Kale, beets and…avocados!”

Spider-Man gagged, “Oh, I’m getting sick just thinking about it!”

“Imagine having to smell it almost every day,” Toshinori smirked—though, now, Sorahiko could see the sorrow that lurked in his eyes, yet, it was well-hidden by mirth and joy.

“Fun as that sounds,” Captain Britain shuddered, “I’d much rather go out and patrol.”

“Same,” Spider-Man agreed. He nodded at Toshinori, “See ya, All Might.” He half-heartedly waved at Sorahiko, “Later, Granny.” Before Sorahiko could form a reply (not that he was able to much more than stare in stunned silence, at any rate) the two Vigilantes left, Spider-Man leaping into the air and climbing out a window, Captain Britain soaring out the door.

When they left, Toshinori’s smile disappeared, nailing Sorahiko with a glare. “What was that?” he asked irately.

Sorahiko ignored the question, instead saying, “You…told them about Nana?”

Toshinori’s glare morphed into a solemn frown, “Well…yeah. We’re friends. Friends talk, you know?”

“…How much?” he asked softly.

Toshinori slowly shook his head, “They don’t know about…her gift to me.” The older Hero let out a relieved sigh. “But…I have told them about _why_ I’m here. N-Nothing specific!” he added at Sorahiko’s sharp gasp, “But, well…Can’t exactly save each other’s lives and not…grow close…” he trailed off, shrugging lightly, “I mean, David hasn’t saved my life, per say, but he’s still a _good_ guy.” That…made sense, the Japanese Hero supposed. It’s how he and Nana got so close, after all.

He…He still didn’t have the best opinion on Vigilantes, but if Toshinori…Sorahiko groaned lightly, resisting the urge to bend over and cradle his head. No, he wouldn’t entertain _that_ line of thought. Toshinori was safe, that’s all that mattered.

Forcing a grin on his face, he said, “Why don’t you show me how much you’ve grown since leaving my tutelage?” Toshinori paled, stepping back and raising his fists. Sorahiko laughed, “Nah, I’m not going to beat the stuffing out of you—not now, at least,” he added with a sharp grin, snickering when Toshinori gulped audibly. “I’m talking about Hero work—or Vigilante work, in this case.”

Toshinori snorted, the color returning to his cheeks, “You’ll find that Americans don’t really care for the distinction.”

/+/+/+/+/

**A/N: Is Gran acting prejudiced and petty? Rather, he is, but is it the _right_ amount of prejudiced and petty? Don’t want to lean too hard in any direction. Be sure to leave a review. Later.**


End file.
